


Hearts of War

by spectreshepard



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergence, Drabble Collection, M/M, aka I rewrote the entire game post-Mykonos leave me alone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-19 23:25:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16544330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectreshepard/pseuds/spectreshepard
Summary: When one man's Atlas shoulders carry the world, is it not the fate of the other to see him as the world itself?A collection of Thalexios drabbles. Takes place in a canon divergence universe where Thaletas takes up Alexios' offer to join him on the Adrestia.





	1. a gift from Dionysus

Everything is tinged with the pleasant rose-gaze of too much wine, but Alexios has a steady hand at his waist to keep his feet on the floor - Thaletas is good at that, keeping him grounded - and so he carries on his aimless stumbling, lazy laughter mixing in with the haze of music that fills the room.

“I think you need to lie down, Alexios.” Thaletas speaks quietly, and Alexios hums to himself, amused at the concern he finds there in the words, spoken close to his ear. The feel of lips brushing his jaw makes Alexios smile, crooked and golden.

“Maaaaybe.” he draws out the word, having absolutely no intention of leaving. 

Thaletas snorts, hiding a smile as he holds Alexios up from stumbling into an elegant banquet table. Alexios feels himself being guided somewhere then, but the music grows louder and the wine seems ever more potent, the more he drinks it. It tastes too good to leave it–

“I can’t hold you up all night.” Thaletas adds, and Alexios raises an eyebrow at that, sharp eyes glancing down at the general. A knowing smirk follows, and Thaletas narrows his eyes back at Alexios, daring him to say whatever inane thought is on his mind right now. 

“You had no problem last night.” Alexios quips easily, his hands squeezing lightly at Thaletas’ arms, those familiar muscles tense beneath his own hot skin. 

Thaletas isn’t quick enough to hide his smile this time, and Alexios catches the faintest tinge of red on the man’s face to go along with it. He chuckles quietly, self-satisfied with his minute victory, and pulls Thaletas closer. They’ve been at this symposium for hours, largely at the insistence of Alkibiades - who, conveniently, Alexios owes many favours to - and for Thaletas, it’s not quite an experience he’s indulged in before. Spartans aren’t quite the type, Alexios supposes.

“Which is  _exactly_ why I’m not carrying you around tonight. I need to recover. You might have been blessed with Apollo’s strength, but I certainly was not.” Thaletas says, a hand against Alexios’ body to push him back, gently. Alexios feels a breeze at his back, and he spares a glance over his shoulder. They’re outside, now, and Thaletas seems to breathe a sigh of relief when the music fades behind them. Alexios frowns, the cool air relieving him of some of the haze enough to realize that Thaletas isn’t exactly in familiar territory here.

“I’m sorry, I get carried away with these things.” Alexios sighs, a quiet shame rising in him at his lack of understanding. They’re still learning each other, still getting to grips with what they mean, but Alexios thought he was doing better than this. 

“Don’t apologize. You enjoyed yourself, and so did I.” Thaletas smiles easily, the worry gone from his face in an instant. Alexios doesn’t quite believe him, and his gaze lingers on the general for a few moments longer, trying to pinpoint the man’s elusive thoughts.

“Alexios…” Thaletas notices, as he always does. Alexios remains undeterred, fingers reaching up to run gentle lines along Thaletas’ jaw, curling slowly around the back of his neck to pull him closer until their foreheads are touching. A familiar gesture. Alexios enjoys it, feels safe in it, and he hopes Thaletas does too. 

“Forgive me. I forget that I haven’t led the most ordinary of lives.” Alexios says quietly, the rosy haze clearing as the evening air takes hold. 

“I enjoy your stories.” Thaletas tells him, “As much as your oddities.” he adds with a grin, pulling away slightly to look up at Alexios. 

“Oddities?” Alexios shoots him a look of mock offense, “Didn’t you appreciate my dancing?” 

“ _That_ was dancing?”

“It would’ve been if the table hadn’t gotten in the way.” 

Their shared laughter spills out over the empty terrace, the echo of the music from inside barely audible. It hums in the air long after their laughter quietens, and Thaletas slips an arm around Alexios’ waist, looking up at him with intent.

“Let me show you.” he says, lips curving into an almost-smile, and Alexios recognizes the spark in those eyes he saw long ago in Mykonos. A curiosity, above all else. Something he loved about Thaletas, even more so now than ever.

“Alright. You have my undivided attention.” Alexios grins back, letting himself be moved by Thaletas to wherever he wanted him, strong hands pulling and pushing in gentle motions. Eventually, Alexios ends up looking a little more capable of a dance than he did earlier, but as soon as Thaletas tries to step with him, Alexios mixes up his feet and almost sends them both into a passing servant. She manages to get away with a glare at both of them, amphora still full to the brim with wine meant for inside, and takes her leave of stumbling Spartans for the evening. Alexios gives up on the evening’s entertainment and retreats to sit on a nearby wall instead, far away from any laden tables or further passing servants. Thaletas’ laughter follows him over, and two warm hands cradle Alexios’ face moments later, pulling his gaze to meet Thaletas’ own.

“I suppose a pretty face makes up for your total lack of grace.” Thaletas concludes with a contented sigh, a smile still playing at soft lips. 

“Hmph. A poet  _and_ a dancer?” Alexios teases, relentless, and his grin only widens as Thaletas groans, playfully shoving Alexios’ face away in exasperation. 

“You’re lucky I lo-” Thaletas catches himself before he finishes his words, eyes torn from Alexios for a moment. Alexios waits, patiently, but Thaletas only turns back to him with a smile. 

“What?” Alexios prompts, needing to hear how that sentence ended. He knows, in his heart of hearts, but to hear it would be a gift that Thaletas rarely gives outside of stolen moments. 

“You know.” Thaletas says softly, a thumb ghosting over Alexios’ chin, eyes drifting down to his lips and back up. Alexios’ teasing grin fades into a warm smile, the kind he only shares with Thaletas, and he resigns himself to waiting once again. He knows. He sees it in everything that Thaletas does, in everything that Thaletas doesn’t say out loud. 

“I know.” Alexios nods, reaching up to catch Thaletas’ hand and link their fingers together, enjoying this moment while they can. 

And as if on cue, an interruption takes the shape of Alkibiades, barely-clothed in cloth that  _definitely_ doesn’t belong to him, hanging gracefully through the doorway where the sound of his delighted exclamations pulls the attention of the two Spartan men outside.

“Alkibiades.” Alexios greets him wearily, watching as the man claps slowly, walking over to them with a grin brighter than Helios. 

“Am I interrupting a…  _moment_?” the man asks, and Alexios knows full well that he’s playing, once again. 

“You’re always interrupting a moment, Alkibiades.” Alexios raises a pointed eyebrow, but doesn’t hide his smile. Thaletas remains relaxed in his loose grip, and that gives Alexios comfort. Admittedly, Alkibiades had… certainly made an effort on Thaletas earlier, not that it got him anywhere. Alexios had tried to warn Thaletas, but all in all, meeting Alkibiades isn’t an event you can prepare for in any way, shape, or form. 

“It’s an unerring part of my charm, Alexios!” Alkibiades brushes it off, as he does with everything else, and turns his attention back to Thaletas, blue eyes almost scrutinizing their close proximity, trying to work it out. “So, has this lion of Sparta finally been… tamed?” 

“ _Tamed?_ ” Alexios huffs indignantly, brow furrowed, even as Alkibiades laughs his way out of the Spartan’s ire. 

“I’m not quite sure that’s possible, if it’s him you’re referring to.” Thaletas surprises Alexios when he turns to the Athenian, his words as polished as Alkibiades’, and his smile just as charming. 

“Spoken like a man who knows better.” Alkibiades nods, clearly enjoying this. Unlike Alexios. 

“Did you want something?” Alexios asks gruffly, wanting nothing more than to be left alone with Thaletas once again. 

“Oh, yes! My  _olisbos_. I left it somewhere nearby.” Alkibiades hums in thought, a lithe finger tapping at his chin while he looks around the terrace. Alexios just shuts his eyes and reminds himself to breathe in and out, like a rational person, in the hopes that would stop him from forcibly marching the man back inside and locking them all in. 

“ _Olisbos_?” Thaletas asks, and Alexios manages a noise somewhere between a groan of exasperation and a completely undignified snort.

“ _Please_ don’t.” Alexios isn’t sure whether his words are directed at Thaletas or Alkibiades, or both. 


	2. the curse of Hypnos

Alexios never sleeps well. 

Even as a child, he remembers night terrors would plague him far more often than a night of sound sleep, and after Taygetos, that only made things worse. Sometimes Myrinne would soothe him, but most of the time, he was left to his own fears, expected to fight them off like any other Spartan child. Maybe that was a blessing in the end, Alexios had wondered, because those terrors have long since faded into monotonous sound, always playing in the back of his mind. No longer terrifying, but a constant reminder of his scarred memory. 

A pack of wolves would be less trouble to a Spartan boy. You could kill a beast, eventually, but dreams are made of things far out of reach, and Alexios has always been afraid of the deathly distance that tries to entice him. 

It’s these thoughts that flicker to the forefront of his mind when Alexios wakes, slowly, uncertainly - he sees the grey light of dawn and immediately his thoughts are shrouded with doubt. It’s just a fact to him: he does not sleep through a night, and he can’t remember the last time he’s woken up to greet morning like an old friend. But the feeling of woven sheets under his hand is real, made more so when his fingers clench and curl, confirming that the sight in front of him is indeed a tangible thing, and not a trick of the mind. He exhales slowly, a quiet fear rising when he can’t place exactly where he is, and it almost takes hold until he recognizes a familiar, heavy warmth at his chest. Alexios spares a fleeting glance down, and immediately, he relaxes. 

Thaletas has him, an arm secure around his chest, the soft rush of breath at the back of his neck - almost ticklish, but more pleasant in the dull morning haze. Alexios swallows, letting out a short sigh of relief. It’s accompanied by a myriad of other emotions, but Alexios doesn’t have the will to go through them all right now. He just knows that he feels safe. 

That thought remains with him. All his life, he’s been untouchable because he never stopped moving forward. Myrinne’s words had been burned into his mind from that young age - from a better life - and if Alexios had ever lived by anything, it was that. It made him harder to find, and if people couldn’t find him, then they couldn’t hurt him. Simple, and an easy enough rule to follow.

At least, it was, until Alexios had started finding reasons to stay.

His thoughts are interrupted by an aching shoulder, made worse by the fact he’s been lying on it for hours, it seems. Grumbling, Alexios turns onto his other side as best as he can without disturbing Thaletas. Not that it was a difficult thing to do, Alexios has a feeling Thaletas could sleep through a small Athenian invasion if he was tired enough. He smiles to himself when Thaletas only shifts to slip an arm back over, pulling Alexios closer still. The mercenary lets him, still a little overwhelmed by how safe he feels in such a predicament. It’s far more common for Alexios to slip out of a lover’s bed quietly in the dead of night than it is for him to wake up in it, and he’s keenly aware this isn’t the first time it’s happened with Thaletas either. 

In fact, it’s never actually happened with anyone else. Alexios tries not to think too much on what that means, even though his heart begins to hammer once more, spurred on by something deeper than his superficial fears. 

“You think too loudly.” Thaletas’ voice is unbearably soft, made gentler by the edges of sleep beginning to wear off. Alexios just looks at him, catching the glimmer of his eyes in the morning sun. He likes to pretend it doesn’t catch him off-guard, but it does, every time. 

“I- what?” Alexios murmurs, a hand coming up to rub tiredly at his eyes. Words are hard at this time of day. Especially when they’re being spoken by a man he’s completely fallen for, and is currently lying in bed with, to make matters worse. 

“Your thoughts are keeping you awake.” Thaletas hums, eyes drifting close for a moment, “What’s wrong?”

Alexios bristles a little, still not used to the way Thaletas sees right through him. He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his fingers find their way to Thaletas’ bare chest, drawing lines and meaningless shapes over muscle and skin while he thinks of something to tell him. It seems like such a silly thing to admit that he’s never slept this well, all because he’s never felt this safe with someone– It’s stupid. Pointless. 

“Nothing’s wrong, Thaletas.” Alexios admits, eventually. Thaletas doesn’t look content with that answer though, eyes blinking open again, brow creased with a slight frown as he regards Alexios. 

“But something won’t let you rest.” Thaletas counters easily, and it almost annoys Alexios. 

Almost.

“It’s just… I haven’t slept this well in a long time.” Alexios drops his voice to barely above a whisper, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks even as he talks. “And I know it’s stupid. It’s just because I feel… safe. Here. With you.” 

There’s a beat of silence, and it’s a moment too long for Alexios who starts to move out of Thaletas’ grip, gaze dropping. Thaletas’ grip just tightens, and Alexios stops.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Thaletas says, and there’s a quiet authority to his voice that sends a pleasant thrill down Alexios’ spine. “I have you. I want you. Now and forever by my side, Alexios, just like you said back on Delos.”

Alexios feels his breath leave him in an instant at those words, and he’s left staring at Thaletas, not knowing what to say. There’s plenty going through his mind, but nothing that shapes itself into words that he can speak. In the end, only a glimmer of his thoughts make it out as a breathless laugh, cheeks darkening even in the early morning light, and he finally regains some of his snark back for long enough to bite back.

“All talk and no action, Thaletas…” Alexios grins wolfishly, but his snark is short lived as Thaletas has him flat on his back a moment later, and his lips are hovering over Alexios’ own in a mirror of his smile.

“Hah, I’m not done with you.” Thaletas says, and Alexios winces as he feels Thaletas’ hand pressing down on his thigh, right over the marks Thaletas had left last night. Alexios chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest with a pleasant hum as his skin feels alight under Thaletas’ touch. 

“Well, you’re still talking.” Alexios can’t resist taking the last word, even as Thaletas shuts him up with a searing kiss.


	3. a dance with Poseidon

Any port in a storm would be a wonderful old adage to follow right about now, Alexios thinks, teeth grinding as he holds onto the quarterdeck rail, the Adrestia ploughing through Herculean waves with little regard for the poor bastards trying to stay afloat upon her decks.

This storm had whipped up out of seemingly nowhere, the sky growing dark and still with a foreboding gloom accompanying the sound of howling wind moving through the narrow streets of Naxos. Torchlight had flickered and failed, casting pathways into darkness, and the sea-salt smell was tinged with copper - blood was spilling, and more would be added long before the night was over.

Maybe Alexios should’ve thought twice about dropping sails to move out of Naxos, but he doesn’t want the Athenian blockade to grow even further in number which would undoubtedly be the case if they’d waited til morning. Myrinne had every right to be concerned with Paros looming, and Alexios isn’t about to let her down after coming this far. Besides, Barnabas hadn’t tried to stop him from marching on deck and giving the order, and that’s usually his red flag as far as seafaring adventures go.

Right now, it’s as if Poseidon himself is here to lash his ire down at them with whips of lightning and sea-splitting thunder. The foam churns white and wild underneath the hull, and Alexios is just waiting for the first crack of wood to signal their untimely demise into the depths. It would be just his luck, quite honestly, and he isn’t about to mess with the Fates. His Spartan crew are valiantly manning the deck as best as they can, hauling sails down with one eye on the rigging, but it’s clear that every soldier on this ship is far better acquainted with sturdy, solid ground - Alexios inlcluded - than Poseidon’s fury. It’s all they can do to weather this particular storm.

Barnabas hollers from somewhere next to him, but Alexios can barely see through the stinging rain and the wind whipping strands of hair into his face. He can’t even reach for his helmet without getting flung across the quarterdeck, and it’s growing even harder to bellow out orders for arrow volleys and shields-up. At least two of the Athenian triremes are already sinking, bits of wood flying as the Adrestria rams a third into Poseidon’s hands, but Alexios just wants this to be over. He’s halfway through a bitter, mumbled prayer when he feels a hand at his back, firm and strong, a pleasant anchor in the stormy sea they find themselves in.

“We’re almost through.” Thaletas has to get close for Alexios to hear, and there’s the tiniest glimmer of relief in the way Alexios lets out a breath he’s been holding, “You’ve got us this far. I knew you fought like Achilles reborn, but now I’m starting to think you could fight Poseidon blindfolded!” 

Alexios huffs, lips tugging into a faint smile. He forces himself to keep his eyes open, on the fourth and final ship ahead. Its sails have been ripped to shreds by the wind but the distinctive blue is unmistakable, and the sight sends a ripple of determination through the Spartans still standing on the deck. Alexios observes the naval battlefield for a moment, finding quiet in-between the shouts and battle-cries ahead. There’s a lull in the storm, and Thaletas moves to stand beside Alexios while the ship rocks and stills briefly. He reaches out to the rail, hands bloody from rough rope and javelins, and Alexios doesn’t have to look down at his own hands to know that they’re covered in red too.

“One last ship, then we rest.” Alexios says quietly to Thaletas before settling on a course. “Barnabas, dead ahead. Give it everything we’ve got, we can cleave the bastards in two before they turn.” he directs to the old Captain, who nods and bellows out the order to the main deck.

It’s not long before they’re turning back for Naxos with bloodied water and sunken ships in their wake.

“It’s been a while.” Thaletas says quietly, watching Alexios intently as he works on wrapping his bruised hands. Alexios is careful not to press too hard, as much as his own hands are stinging. He glances up, hair still wet and stuck to his head in errant disarray, and shoots Thaletas a questioning look.

“Last time I was in a dogfight like that, I was stranded on Mykonos.” Thaletas reminds him, and Alexios’ eyebrows shoot up in realization. 

“Ah.” he breathes, feeling a little guilty. Of course. That can’t have been pleasant for him. “I’m sorry, that was a hard fight. And especially after Mykonos.” 

“No, Alexios…” Thaletas lets out a quiet chuckle, and Alexios feels a hand tangling gently in his hair, fingers brushing the nape of his neck just enough to draw out a contented hum of appreciation. “…there isn’t blame to place. I just forgot how brutal it could be.” he explains, wiggling the fingers of his free hand as Alexios finishes up the wrapping. 

“Still, it’s not the most pleasant thing for you to recall.” Alexios frowns, squeezing Thaletas’ thigh gently as he goes to stand, taking away the last of the dressings and storing them safely out of sight. The seas are much calmer now, and it’s evident to the both of them, currently down in the crew quarters along with plenty of others trying to patch themselves up while they wait for morning light to sail back safely and assess the damage.

“Neither is Barnabas’ singing, but I still have to put up with that.” Thaletas smiles easily, and brighter still when Alexios actually laughs, breaking his cloudy demeanour. The misthios makes his way back over to the hammock Thaletas has taken over, one leg swung out, foot just touching the floor to keep it from swaying too much. 

“Such a critic.” Alexios nudges Thaletas’ leg, and Thaletas moves to give him some space to sit down. Alexios settles easily into place next to Thaletas, lying back with a sigh as he rest his arms behind his head, fatigue beginning to set in. “Seriously, though. I doubt we’ll run into something like that again.” 

“Even if we do, I feel far better with you around.” Thaletas tells him, “You hold command well. It suits you.” 

Alexios just smiles, all too glad to hear it. And especially from Thaletas’ mouth.

“Now, about that rest you promised…” Thaletas cuts himself off with a yawn, absently snuggling closer to Alexios’ warmth, still drying out from the rain. Alexios feels the damp of his hair at his shoulder, but given as it’s Thaletas, he can’t bring himself to care. 

“Sleep, Thaletas. Or I’ll get Barnabas to sing you to sleep.” Alexios sighs, a teasing smile on his face as Thaletas shoves him in the ribs, sleepy laughter filling the smallest of spaces left between them. 

They enjoy the peaceful silence for a few moments, listening to the sound of breathing and gentle lull of the waves, amidst the mindless chatter of the crew slowly beginning to drop off into their own little rest spots.

“Alexios?” Someone calls him, and Alexios has to bite back a growl of annoyance as he cracks his eyes open, lifting his head slightly to see who dares wake him. Herodotos’ familiar old face swims into view, and Alexios just stares blankly at him, keenly aware of Thaletas almost snoring next to him.

“Are we sinking?” Alexios mumbles wearily.

“Ah, not quite yet.” Herodotos manages a small smile, “Just making my rounds. You– neither of you are injured?” he asks, genuine concern in his weary voice as he notices Thaletas all but passed out next to the misthios. Alexios lets his glare soften - as much as he hates being disturbed from rest, he can’t fault Herodotos for checking up on them. He seems to have made it his personal responsibility to poke around and offer his basic healing skills after every battle, ever since Barnabas got slammed by a rogue piece of ship debris a few fights ago. It’s nice to have that feeling of somebody looking out for you, Alexios thinks, even if he’s not quite used to it yet.

“We’re alright. You should rest.”

“Not for me - I was quite safe in the hold while battle raged on out there. It’s only right that I take up the night watch while you and the crew get some well-earned rest.” Herodotos shakes his head, but his usual warm glance is not lost on Alexios, who returns a weary grin as best as he can.

“If you say so. Goodnight, Herodotos.” Alexios sighs, shooting a half-hearted wave at the sound of retreating footseps as he lies back down, eyes drifting closed no sooner than when his head finally rests against Thaletas’ own.


	4. the embrace of Aphrodite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW, please ensure ur seatbelts are fastened

Thaletas isn’t as rough as Alexios had expected. 

Intense, yes, and powerful, authoritative; everything that makes Alexios hum with pleasure and anticipation, in the best way possible.

But never rough. 

Alexios doesn’t mind. He appreciates that. He needs a strong hand to push him, a strong arm to hold him back, a strong mind to match his own when his thoughts stray off into the unknown. Thaletas matches him easily, word for word and step for step. After a while, Alexios had learned not to be afraid of stumbling or losing his footing, because Thaletas was always there to shoulder him up to his feet again.

So, tonight had been a cause for celebration. A completed voyage, a victory for Sparta in Boeotia, and for a certain Spartan general; a triumph in a personal conquest where hearts of war are concerned. 

That would be exactly the reason why Alexios finds himself in the general’s bed, a prize as much as he was the victor here. Thaletas has him entirely under his command, but Alexios is making him work for it. There’s nothing like seeing his commander all flustered, teeth gritted, eyes dark with want, knowing that he’s been held back by such a simple binding for the past thirty minutes of relentless teasing.

“Damn _every single one_  of these gods, Alexios–” Thaletas strains against the soft rope, binding his hands together behind his back. Alexios knew what he was doing, the knots are expertly tied, the rope safely wound, and the wolfish grin on the misthios’ face only makes Thaletas stare up at him, open-mouthed and bright eyed. Waiting. 

“You asked.” Alexios hums, drawing closer, nose brushing the line of Thaletas’ jaw, rough with stubble now after days of traveling. His lips follow, pressing kisses all along the line to Thaletas’ chin, and then his lips, and his lips again. Thaletas can’t do anything but push for more, left breathless when Alexios pulls away. 

“You have to tell me what you want.” Alexios reminds the general coyly, chuckling lowly when he feels Thaletas’ chest rise sharply under his hand, breath hitching for a second as Alexios starts working his way down a sensitive neck. Teeth bite, leaving a sharp pain immediately soothed by a warm tongue and soft lips, determined to leave their mark. Thaletas bites back a moan when Alexios drops further, to the sweet spot at the curve of his neck. 

“It’d help if I could  _think_.” Thaletas breathes, pulling some words together when Alexios grants him a slight reprieve, sitting back to let his hands wander. Thaletas may as well be carved from marble like any of the statues that line Sparta’s paths, Alexios thinks to himself, fingers drifting with feather-light touches over the contour of muscle and skin, stopping every so often at a cluster of freckles he finds. Each one brings a smile to Alexios’ face as he maps them out, commits them to memory, and learns how to worship a mortal man with the reverence most would save for Zeus himself. 

“I’m impatient.” Alexios says, head tilting as he draws a finger right up the centre of Thaletas’ chest, the sound of Thaletas’ breathless laughter shooting up through him with the colour of red blooming through his chest, painted oh-so easily by his thundering heart. Thaletas rests his head back against the wall, a smirk falling into place as he regards Alexios through half-lidded eyes, clear intent written in those dark irises.

“Then you’ll learn to have patience tonight, dear heart.” Thaletas murmurs as Alexios’ finger drifts up the column of his throat, and his fingers close around it, just lightly, just enough for Thaletas to feel the strength waiting behind that gentle caress. Alexios meets his gaze, lower lip drawn between his teeth as he registers the thinly veiled promise behind Thaletas’ words; he’d show him, one way or another. A thrill shoots up his spine, spurring him into action as his lips crash into Thaletas’ once again, but with an intensity behind them that wasn’t there just moments ago. 

It doesn’t take long for Thaletas to take control, teeth pulling at Alexios’ lip, asking for him to relent without ever having to utter a word. Alexios gives him what he wants, lips pliant and warm under Thaletas’ own, letting the kiss deepen with a breathy moan. There’s a hint of blood on Alexios’ lip, a quiet testament to the restraint he’s trying - and failing - to show, but it makes the kiss somehow sweeter. Alexios has to break it, breathing harder, forehead resting against Thaletas’ for a moment while he tries to collect his scattered thoughts. It proves impossible, as Thaletas is set on returning Alexios’ earlier favours; teeth and tongue trace the tense muscles of Alexios’ neck, not quite leaving marks just yet.

“I thought you said–” Alexios tries to speak, but Thaletas has other ideas, hips rolling up into Alexios’ own, bare skin on skin lighting up the fire that had been slowly growing in the pit of his belly. 

“Get this fucking rope off me, Alexios, and I’ll show you.” Thaletas growls, kisses far more teeth than lips by now, leaving a trail of red, flustered skin all along Alexios’ shoulder. Alexios has to pull himself away from Thaletas, rushing to get at the ropes binding Thaletas’ hands together. Anything that would get him closer, get those hands on him–

“Next time, they’re going on you.” Thaletas turns his head slightly to look, lips curved into a warm smile that catches Alexios off-guard for a fleeting moment. Shit. There would be a debt to pay for his insolence, Alexios figures, but damn it all - he’s been waiting to get Thaletas alone for long enough. Spartan military camps don’t exactly offer enough privacy for either of their tastes. So Alexios just grins back, undoing the final knots with a flourish, throwing the ropes aside. 

Given how Thaletas is watching him, he should have seen it coming, but Alexios doesn’t have time to respond before he’s pinned down under a familiar weight, the smell of leather armour and myrrh heightening his senses to an almost painful degree as Thaletas all but worships him, his body, lips trailing down his chest as strong arms keep Alexios right where he is, completely at Thaletas’ mercy. Any smart remark he had bubbling around his mind is lost when Thaletas pays particular attention to the sharp line of muscle at his hips, tantalisingly close but still too fucking far away from where he wants that mouth to be. This ridiculous dance has left Alexios hard and waiting, and far, far away from any sense of relief, and he would call himself a complete idiot if he wasn’t enjoying this so much.

He decides he’ll call himself an idiot after.

Alexios’ hands curl and flex in and out of fists, the veins in his wrists standing out, his arms held to the bed by Thaletas with a strength that tells him he’s not going anywhere until Thaletas wants him to, and that sends another shooting thrill right through him, enough for him to whine, hips bucking lightly as Thaletas’ mouth starts to work closer.

“You’re terrible at waiting.” Thaletas hums, lips brushing the sensitive skin of Alexios’ thigh now, driving his patience to the limit. Alexios just groans, throwing his head back against the pillows in protest, unable to even move his legs with Thaletas resting on them. His chest is heaving with the effort of trying to keep his patience intact, breaths coming hard and fast now, spiralling further out of control the more he tries. Eventually, Thaletas releases one of Alexios’ arms, and his hand immediately flies to Thaletas’ head, fingers curling tight in his hair, trying desperately to get him where he wants him. 

“Hah, I don’t think so.” Thaletas laughs, the sound rippling through Alexios like molten gold. He has to look down at the general, pleading, even as Thaletas untangles Alexios’ hand from his hair and begins to move back up, letting Alexios’ other arm free from his grip. Thaletas takes his time once again, lips exploring the rise and fall of muscle and skin, leaving marks where he pleases. Alexios will remember this vividly for a few days, Thaletas makes sure of that, even as Alexios whines and squirms under him, demanding, but his pleas fall on deaf ears. 

“Thaletas, I said fucking  _please_.” Alexios can’t take it anymore, his hands have already found their way back to Thaletas’, one curled in his hair again, the other wrapped around the back of his neck, a finger lightly tracing the familiar shape of Thaletas’ braid. Thaletas hums to himself contentedly, thinking slowly and deliberately about his next course of action. Alexios catches sight of a wicked smile, and his heart pounds, breath caught in his throat as he waits. 

Thaletas only shifts upwards to kiss him softly, a far cry from his harsh commands, but then a firm hand curling around Alexios’ dick pulls every single word from his mind and leaves Alexios in a fleeting blankness, moaning his vacant thoughts into Thaletas’ mouth. There’s no rhythm or sense, Thaletas knows the erratic tugs and fleeting moments of fingers carefully ghosting veins are driving Alexios crazy, and it’s all carefully orchestrated in a way that makes Alexios want to scream when Thaletas’ lips leave his own. 

“Good… you’re doing so good.” Thaletas murmurs, right into his ear, lips brushing the shell as he begins to pepper kisses all along Alexios’ jaw. “But now, I need you to do something for me.” 

“Ye- fuck, yeah. Anything.” Alexios breathes, trying to keep his eyes focused on the ceiling and not the way Thaletas is edging him without even trying. Has it really been that long? Surely not–

“Turn over.” Thaletas requests, and Alexios quickly obliges. The friction of the sheets against his cock does nothing to help, and it’s almost painful - enough for Alexios to bite down on the nearest pillow he pulls into his arms, sweat laced and beginning to ache with how tense he is. He can hear Thaletas moving around behind him, more so when he lets his eyes slide shut and imagines the oil coating those long, slender fingers, taking care of himself for a few moments while he leaves Alexios waiting–

“You look amazing like this.” Thaletas’ words find Alexios in a state of quiet wonder. The misthios glances over his shoulder up at Thaletas, and it almost overwhelms him how safe he feels here, how he can be this vulnerable and be completely okay with it. Thaletas looks after him, more than anything, and Alexios adores it. 

Adores him.

But he hasn’t said that yet.

“I try.” Alexios’ mind has calmed enough for him to claw back his usual snark, if only for a few short moments before Thaletas’ hands are on his back, slick with a sweet smelling oil. 

“I don’t think you even need to.” Thaletas says softly, leaning down to kiss Alexios tenderly. Although short-lived, that kiss spoke volumes, and leaves Alexios with a warmth seeping through his chest again, not coloured like desire as much as it is a kind of love. Something else for Alexios to stow away, for now. Swallowing thickly, Alexios turns his attention back to Thaletas - or rather, the physical presence of him - and his gaze drifts eagerly to where he’s kneeling on the bed, thighs tense with the effort of keeping himself up. Thaletas watches Alexios’ gaze, and chuckles to himself when he sees where it eventually ends up. Alexios knows Thaletas is a show-off when he wants to be, and he makes a point of stroking himself, slowly and thoroughly, already hard and waiting. But unlike Alexios, Thaletas has the patience of gods far beyond his ken, and Alexios isn’t going to last a day trying to stand up to it.

“Haven’t I waited enough?” Alexios whines, head dropping back onto the pillow, and Thaletas’ laughter follows him, but with no words to accompany it this time. Instead, Thaletas draws closer, a hand trailing slick down Alexios’ sculpted back until they reach the dip and the curve of his ass. Alexios pushes up into Thaletas’ grip, completely done with wasting time. Thaletas pushes him back down, and doesn’t give him a chance to breathe before he’s slipped a finger past the tight ring of muscle, drawing a strangled gasp from Alexios, his hands clenching in the sheets and curses spilling over the pillows as Thaletas works, slowly and steadily, watching Alexios all the while. He comfortably adds a second finger, and Alexios whimpers in pleasure, hips rolling up despite Thaletas working him down. He doesn’t bother with words, completely unable to string any noises together that aren’t totally incoherent at this point. 

“I think you’ve waited enough.” Thaletas murmurs, a belated answer to Alexios who barely registers it as a third finger joins the others, working him open with a heady mix of pain and pleasure, building with each and every passing second. Alexios almost reaches his breaking point when Thaletas leaves him empty, both hands now gripping Alexios’ hips hard enough to bruise. Thaletas lines himself up, barely sliding in before Alexios is struggling to hold himself up, hands unfurling, pillows scattered under him, his moans filling the room with every move Thaletas makes. He slips an arm up his back, a hand finally tangling in Alexios’ hair to pull him up as Thaletas bottoms out in one snap of his hips, tearing a cry of pleasure from the impatient misthios, who’s making this all too easy for him.

Alexios is torn between the sharp pain as Thaletas tugs his hair, and the sheer pleasure that tears through him with every roll of Thaletas’ hips. In tandem, it’s driving Alexios closer and closer to the brink of release that he’s desperately craving, more so when Thaletas carefully works into him, a rhythm falling into place that has both of them striving for that familiar hit of ecstasy they’ve long been waiting for. The taste of victory in the air makes it all the more worthwhile. Thaletas fucks him like he deserves it, as though Alexios is just the prize of another bloody conquest, and the idea courses through Alexios with a sense of pride that nobody’s ever managed to instil in him before.

“C- _close_. Fuck, Alexios.” Thaletas has lost almost every bit of composure he’s been holding onto up until now, pounding into the body beneath him fuelled by sheer desire and something that runs deeper, blood-deep, that neither man can put a word on just yet, but they both know it keeps them tied together in a way nothing else does, and neither of them want to see it broken. Thaletas wraps his arms around Alexios as he begins to feel him come undone, the misthios arching into him with a stuttering cry as he spills, Thaletas stroking him to the very limit of pleasure even as he follows suit, hips rutting into Alexios with senseless rhythm until he’s spent. Alexios doesn’t bother holding himself up, collapsing into the sheets with a quiet, contented moan, breathing hard, trying to pull himself together after Thaletas had forced him apart so ruthlessly. 

“Lex?” Thaletas breathes, freeing himself of Alexios carefully, leaning over him. 

“Well, that was… one way to show me.” Alexios is barely audible, still caught up on his comedown, but he catches Thaletas’ gaze with a flushed grin, eyes alight. Thaletas smiles down at him, relieved, scared he’d hurt him for a second there. He reaches for a nearby rag, cleaning himself up quickly, and Alexios does the same when he can finally muster enough strength and co-ordination back into his limbs to actually move. He’d need a bath in the morning. A long, relaxing, hot bath, Thaletas included. 

It’s not long before they find themselves in their usual spots, a short while later, Alexios sprawled out on the bed with Thaletas lying on his side next to him, head propped up on his hand, if only to look at Alexios some more. Idle chatter usually fills the space after nights like these, but it’s quieter tonight, and Alexios has something far more serious on his mind than matters of camp disagreements. 

“Thank you.” Alexios says quietly, in a brief moment of silence. Thaletas just looks at him, confusion evident in the quirk of his brow. Alexios smiles, small and soft, not meant for anybody else. His hand trails over Thaletas’ body, over his ribs and the hard muscles of his stomach before settling on the curve of his hip, and Alexios looks up at him. “You look after me, even though you don’t need to.”

“I might not need to, but I certainly  _want_ to.” Thaletas replies easily, as if the matter was self-explanatory. “You mean more to me than anything I’ve known before. Anyone.” 

So, Alexios was right in that, at least. There was something deeper. Something tying them together that was more than just a meeting of convenience, where two people wanted something that the other was able to provide. It was almost a need to be around each other, whether on the battlefield or in a bed; it doesn’t go away. 

As much as it had scared Alexios in the beginning, it’s become something of a comfort now, and something that he’s beginning to understand.

“I know that I love you.” Alexios admits, resting a hand behind his head as he looks up at the handsome figure drawn next to him, ever the picture of composure except for the fleeting moments only Alexios gets to see. And he treasures those moments. Thaletas doesn’t reply right away, his hand coming up to rest at Alexios’ face, a thumb brushing his cheek tenderly, dark eyes boring into Alexios’ own, made softer by the edges of a smile. 

“Good.” Thaletas breathes, leaning over Alexios, “I told you that you had my love on Mykonos, even if my heart was in Sparta. But then you took me home with you, didn’t you, you damned misthios?” he’s teasing, but there’s a sincerity behind his gaze that moves Alexios. It’s real. That fills Alexios with a joy he hasn’t felt in a long, long time. 

“I’ve made worse decisions.” Alexios has enough fight left in him for one of his remarks, but the blow is softened as Alexios pulls Thaletas down to him, lips meeting tenderly, slow and sure this time, with no desire to be anywhere else at all.


	5. the blessing of Nyx

It might be considered odd for a mercenary to uphold routine when their life revolves around being untouchable, constantly moving forward with an eye on the next mark while they outrun the wolves at their heels. It’s certainly been considered an eccentricity in some ways by Thaletas, even after months of learning Alexios’ unusual ways inside out and upside down. 

The general could tell you exactly how he likes to sleep; on his side, an arm under his head and the other buried under a pillow. He could tell you exactly what he doesn’t like about wine; the sweetness buried under too much fragrance, and unless it’s dark and aged well, Alexios wouldn’t try it. He could even tell you exactly the thoughts that drift through Alexios’ mind from time to time, easily readable in the gold of his eyes, the curl of his fingers, and the tenseness of his jaw. 

But Thaletas couldn’t begin to explain the strange and wonderful quirks that Alexios seems to carry with him, regardless of place or time. More than that: Thaletas wouldn’t want to. They lend an air of mystery to the man, alongside the spear that he carries and the god-like capabilities he seems to possess. Granted, Alexios would tell him if he asked, but Thaletas doesn’t like to - it feels like something he would learn in time. 

It’s a quiet night tonight, in their camp overlooking the scarred plains of Boeotia. Myrinne has been bickering with Brasidas for the better part of the afternoon, and it’s no surprise to Thaletas that Alexios has taken off somewhere quieter. He’s perched on the cliff edge - the sight would’ve made Thaletas’ heart drop a few short months ago, but he’s long since gotten used to the misthios’ love of peaks and perches - sat in contemplative silence, swinging his legs idly like a child. Thaletas smiles to himself as he approaches, footsteps careful, trying not to disturb Alexios from his momentary peace.

“Unless you take your armour off, I can hear you from Thebes.” Alexios’ voice carries over his shoulder, and Thaletas looks to see that he’s turned at Thaletas’ approach, which was obviously nowhere near as quiet as he’d thought. He’d have to work on that.

Laughing quietly, Thaletas holds his arms out in mock surrender. “There’s better ways to get my armour off, Alexios.”

Alexios just raises an eyebrow at that, but his smile gives him away as it always does. Shaking his head, he turns away and pats the space next to him, waiting for Thaletas to join him. Picking his way through the rough ground, Thaletas eventually finds himself at the precipice, and his stomach lurches when he looks down. Even in daylight, Boeotia hardly looks like a paradise with Thebes looming stoically on the horizon, the grey smoke-clouds of war still rolling over fields that were once gold, but now lie in ash and ruin. The setting sun does nothing to soften the broken edges of a traitorous nation, and Thaletas does nothing to hide his grimace as he takes his seat next to Alexios, bumping shoulders as he does.

“The price of treason.” Alexios gestures to the lands below, voice dripping with contempt. Thaletas has never really been able to place it; he knows enough about Alexios’ past to understand that Sparta turned its back on him, but Alexios seems to hold onto her colours with a white-knuckle grip. He supposes that’s half the reason they’re even here in Boeotia, with orders from King Archidamos, but even so… Alexios’ need to prove himself runs far deeper than simply trying to reclaim a piece of land. Still, it’s not his place to know yet. Thaletas reminds himself of that, tearing his eyes away from the war-torn landscape to land on Alexios instead, a much kinder sight. 

“You didn’t find your way here to complain about history, did you?” Thaletas sighs, sensing the quiet anger emanating from the mercenary, his fingers curling at the cliff edge. Those rocks must be hurting him… Thaletas frowns, a hand reaching to unfurl Alexios’ grip. Alexios lets him, relaxing a little as Thaletas ghosts a thumb over bruised knuckles with gentle reverence before setting his hand down, looking back up at him.

“Tired of the pointless bickering, I suppose.” Alexios admits with a half-hearted shrug. He looks at Thaletas with a weary smile, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Whatever you decide, I’m with you.” Thaletas reminds him, fixing him with a pointed look. “You haven’t come all this way to go home empty-handed.” 

“It still hurts, though. To be treated like… like nothing. A weapon in Sparta’s arsenal. I’m more than that, I just need to  _show_ them.” Alexios mutters through gritted teeth, gaze drifting back to the horizon once again. His anger simmers for a minute, but then he lets out a sigh and his shoulders drop, a hand coming to rub tiredly at his face. Thaletas just watches, learning every little sign that he can. One day, he’ll be able to help more than this. For now, it’s all he can do to even be here with Alexios instead of back home on Spartan soil, bumping heads with Lysander, trying to regain control of a tiring Spartan army. 

“You will.” Thaletas is sure of that, somehow. A gut feeling. “And you already have those who vouch for you. Brasidas won’t let his praise go unheard.” 

Alexios nods at Thaletas’ words, taking them in. Thaletas is sure he’ll have forgotten them by morning, but he’ll only be too happy to remind him once again. He isn’t alone.

“Time will tell.” Alexios says after a while, the sky beginning to grow pink as daylight wanes. Thaletas is quite content to stay here and watch - Alexios catches the sunlight like it was made for him, the golden beads in his hair reflecting light into a crown for the briefest of moments before the light fades entirely. Even then, the shadows outline his features in dusklight refractions, giving him the guise of Apollo. The sharp brow, the bump of his nose, soft lips, a dimpled grin - all things Thaletas has committed to memory with touch and sight, moments taken for fear that each day might be their last. It’s the life they lead in war, whether they hide from it, run from it, or embrace it on the field. It only makes sense to enjoy it.

“Goodnight, Helios.” Alexios smiles as the sunlight disappears to make way for Nyx. Thaletas is left with another eccentricity to add to his list of unknowns, and it only makes his heart grow fonder still. 


	6. from the hands of Gaia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a baby-sized fluff drabble what can i say

Thaletas is no stranger to the quiet intricacies of romantic gestures - he’s been called hopeless before - but it’s not something he’s ever associated with Alexios. Not that he means to say Alexios isn’t a loving soul, he’s just… maybe more of a straightforward one. There’s no ridiculous to and fro of coy exchanges or tiptoeing around, and Thaletas appreciates that, even if it means he’s usually the one left scratching his head on the rare occasions that Alexios does actually try to do something.

Like right now, for instance. Ikaros had pestered him down in the agora until Thaletas had finally given in and followed, Ikaros chirping away once he’d figured out what the eagle was trying to get him to do. They’d followed a path out of Sparta’s main square for a while before Thaletas had bothered to take notice of where they were headed, his mind too busy with thoughts of the next battle ahead of them. Only now has Thaletas even looked up, spotting Ikaros coming to land on a nearby rock with another bright chirp, fixing his beady glare on Thaletas. It might have made him oddly uncomfortable once, but Thaletas has long since gotten used to it, and he might even say he’s fond of the damn eagle by now - he always leads him to Alexios, after all. 

“Here?” Thaletas raises an eyebrow at the bird, coming to a stop with hands resting at his hips. They’re on the crest of a hill not far outside of the city, away from the noise and the crowds. Marble columns, crumbling, line the pathway, opening up into a plateau that may well have been an altar once upon a time. There’s nothing here but rocks and ruins now, but its beauty still remains. Thaletas may be biased, but Sparta’s rolling green fields and crystal rivers have always held the meaning of home within them. Mykonos might have come close, but not close enough. Smiling to himself, Thaletas is almost surprised at how much his mind has grown quiet in the moments he’s been looking around, taking in the sight in front of him while Ikaros puffs out his feathers and hops from foot to foot, all too pleased with himself. 

“Alright.  _Here_ isn’t bad.” Thaletas says, absently, a hand rubbing at his jaw. He hadn’t been expecting anything in particular, but… this surprised him. Alexios is more the type to lead him to a tavern or symposium instead of a peaceful outlook. Thaletas pushes the thought aside, yet another mystery for the man to unravel in time. 

Making his way to the boulder that Ikaros remains perched on, Thaletas sits down with a sigh, feeling the stress leave his shoulders almost immediately. Ikaros immediately hops up onto his shoulder, and Thaletas thanks the gods that he’s still wearing his armour because those talons would gouge him in the blink of an eye. 

“You are a strange creature, Ikaros.” Thaletas comments idly, offering a finger for the eagle to nibble on. Ikaros chirps away, beak investigating the offering with gentle nibbles. Thaletas chuckles, “But I suppose you take after your companion.”

Speaking of, Alexios is still nowhere to be seen. Not that Thaletas ever expects him to be on time, he thinks, a fond smile tugging at his mouth. He either makes a grand entrance, or he’ll come and go without a single soul knowing. No middle ground. Never tends to be with Alexios. Regardless, Thaletas is enjoying the peace and quiet - this place reminds him all too easily of the ruined temple on Delos. That thought is accompanied by a rush of quiet emotion, blooming red throughout Thaletas’ chest, making him feel warm for a reason unrelated to the sun shining down on him. He’s lost in his thoughts, and it’s only the sudden squawk and flapping of wings at his ear that startles him back to reality. Ikaros has flown off, the heavy weight no longer sitting on his shoulder, and then a voice rings out behind him.

“Ah- Ikaros! No! I didn’t say it was time to find him yet!”   

Turning, Thaletas finds Alexios, arms almost-full of bright colours. When he looks closer, he sees that they’re flowers, and exactly like the ones he’d seen on Delos. More to the point, the ones he’d left for Alexios to follow. Thaletas smiles, slow and certain, looking up at Alexios.

“Were you planning on surprising me?” Thaletas asks, pushing himself off the rock to walk over slowly, smile growing all the while Alexios grows redder and redder in the face. It’s a spectacular sight, and Thaletas isn’t going to forget it anytime soon. 

“I would have, if that  _malakes_ bird wasn’t such a little shit!” Alexios huffs indignantly, eyes squinting against the sunglare as he spots Ikaros soaring high above. The eagle only caws, swooping down to land on the ground not far away from them where he shakes out his wings and stares at Alexios, head tilted. Thaletas stifles a laugh, biting down on his lip for a moment as he regards Alexios and his flowers. 

“They’re like the ones-”

“On Delos. I know, I saw them when we were returning from Korinthia. I thought… well. I don’t know what I thought, I just–” Alexios is almost as red as the flowers by the time he’s stumbled over every single word that just left his mouth, and Thaletas is enjoying this, far, far too much. 

“You don’t have to explain every gesture, you know?” Thaletas says, lips quirked into a knowing smile. “Some things can just  _be_.” 

Alexios looks like he’s about to say something, mouth hanging open on a word that never quite makes it out. He clamps his mouth shut after a moment, and instead, just smiles, glancing away, looking a little embarrassed that he’s been caught. Laughing quietly, Thaletas plucks a flower from the bunch and tucks it in one smooth motion behind Alexios’ ear.

“Ah, yes…” Thaletas steps back, grinning triumphantly, “ _Exactly_  the same shade of red.” 

“Ugh. Shut up.” Alexios drops the flowers, stepping over them in a hurry, and before Thaletas can catch up Alexios has his hands either side of his face, soft and warm, pulling Thaletas to him. It’s a sweet kiss, unhurried, and Thaletas knows it’s Alexios saying everything that his words won’t. Thaletas slips his arms around Alexios’ waist, pulling him closer still. 


	7. an evening ritual

Alexios definitely recalls being hounded by his trainer in the  _agoge_ for not looking after his arms and armour well enough. Too dirty. Never polished. Left lying around in any old spot of dirt when Alexios had given up on being a sensible Spartan son. It was a harsh truth for a lazy child to come to terms with, in all honesty, and it wasn’t exactly until Alexios had lost too much drachmae on Kephallonia that he’d decided taking care of his own gear would be slightly more profitable. At least, it would be, compared to having every crook from Sami to the cursed valley run off with drachmae and armour that was meant to be repaired, not stolen.

Over the years since then, Alexios had made it a ritual. At the end of a day, armour needs to be cleaned and inspected. Weapons need to be set aside carefully, but never too far. If his arms and armour are in fighting shape, then so is he - it’s always been that simple. That mantra had worked for a long time, when it was only himself he had to think about, and when camping meant lonely nights with a makeshift shelter and Ikaros to keep watch. Now, though, things are… different.

Not in a bad way, Alexios supposes, sparing a glance around the camp he finds himself in. 

Spartan banners are flung over hastily erected palisades, wooden barriers set outside each open gate - all decorated with armour stripped from reckless Athenians who had wandered too close in the past few days. A grim reminder that war was there to greet them at every turn. In that respect, it’s been difficult to adjust. Alexios is used to keeping himself alive, marking targets down one by one as quick and quiet as he can. Now, he fights in formation when he’s asked to, holds up his shield-brothers with aching arms and bloodied fists, and bears the weight of too many dead Spartans when they fall in front of him. 

It’s heavier when you know their names, Alexios finds. 

But the good part of all this is that Alexios can finally say he belongs somewhere. A Spartan camp out in the field is now a safe harbour for a weary misthios-turned-soldier, and it feels good to have people who know your name as well as they know your deeds. For too long, Eagle-Bearer has plagued Alexios with a false sense of heroism - it’s become detachable, separate from himself and his thoughts - and in that alone, his own name has started to seem insignificant. As though it was never him who completed these tasks in the first place. 

“ _Ai_ , Alexios!” 

Looking up, he finds several pairs of eyes on him. Anywhere else, Alexios might have already had his spear at the ready, but here, he just looks at them all and puts a name to each face. Hesiodos, a small, sharp-faced man with a thin smile and ever-dark eyes, seems to be awaiting something. Like a response, perhaps, one that Alexios was meant to give. 

“Hm?” 

“Wine, Alexios! You would agree that a sweeter wine is far more palatable than those musty, dried-up excuses of ‘rich’ wines, yes?”

Alexios just blinks, brow furrowing as he tries to recall some memory of taste and smell. Wine isn’t exactly his speciality, he just drinks it if it’s there. Though, granted, he doesn’t like most of the stuff he does end up drinking - it does its job to get his thoughts pleasantly out of focus, however, and that makes up for the awful taste it leaves behind. 

“Clearly, shitty wine has scoured the last of your tastebuds, Hesiodos.” Alexios throws back with an impish smile, knowing this will spark up a fresh round of debate in a camp that’s already well on its way to rowdy inebriation, despite some more stalwart polemarchs lurking in the command tents. Hesiodos crows his dissent, almost falling off his seat - wine goblet still full, of course - and tries to find another, more agreeable voice to add to his debate. Lykos is standing behind him, mostly to keep him sitting upright at this point. A giant brute of a man, he towers over most, but has the personality of a field mouse. Alexios meets Lykos’ exasperated gaze with a smug grin, knowing full well that the man won’t dare say a word against Hesiodos’ drunken ramblings, and that he’ll stay standing there until morning comes if nobody takes pity on him and takes Hesiodos out of his hands. A small amusement, but it goes a long way.

That is the other good thing. The belonging lends itself easily to camaraderie, particularly when you know your life is in the hands of the men around you. Alexios enjoys that far more than he ever did the lonely nights on Mount Ainos, and even if it comes with the constant ribbing and jibes of friendship, it’s not something Alexios is willing to give up now that he’s found it. In a way, it makes him a better soldier; having a cause that doesn’t just belong to you alone gives you far less room for mistakes. 

With the attention now off him, Alexios turns his mind back to what got him thinking in the first place. His armour sits by his tent, waiting for him to clean and inspect it, like he usually always does - but not tonight. He can see it needs maintaining - blood is caked into the engravings, there’s more than a few scrapes he could polish out, and he needs to restring the breastplate after an arrow snagged the ties over a week ago. 

It’s been over a week since Alexios picked that armour up, not to put it on, but to clean and look after it. Over a week since that blacksmith had handed it to him without a word and turned to making the next set, for the next soldier that would inevitably come along. 

He’d gotten away with a week of traveling and fewer rest stops than usual - enough to account for how much wear his armour is showing already - but now that they’ve set their spears down in Boeotia once again, preparing themselves for another bloody dogfight with the Athenians, Alexios has run out of excuses. 

That memory of the trainer keeps coming back to him every time he even thinks about getting it over with. 

It’s stupid, and childish, and all kinds of irrational, but Alexios can’t escape that strange feeling of unworthiness. 

“I don’t think staring will make your armour any cleaner.” 

Another voice to distract him. Alexios recognizes it instantly this time, however. Thaletas brushes a fleeting hand across the back of Alexios’ neck as he passes, eyeing the armour that Alexios has basically been glaring at for an unreasonable amount of time. 

“I can dream.” Alexios retorts drily, resting his elbows on his knees as his hands drop, fingers tangling and untangling. Thaletas notices, frowning as he catches sight of Alexios, walking past. Alexios just shakes his head, and goes back to staring at his hands instead. 

Moments later, Thaletas is back and sitting at his side, working away on his own armour. Alexios is almost offended, but when he looks up, he finds that his armour is definitely not where it was mere moments ago. His gaze slides down and to the left, finding his own set lined up next to Thaletas’. 

Oh.

Something pulls strangely at his chest, seizing his breath for a moment. Alexios is about to say something, but the words are gone before they even reach his lips, and Thaletas is talking again.

“I hated doing this as a child.” He says idly, setting aside a completed pair of greaves. Alexios just watches intently, the care and attention that Thaletas puts into such a menial task is almost endearing. 

After a beat of silence, Thaletas continues, sparing a brief glance sideways to Alexios. “But your armour is one thing protecting you and the rest of your line. It gets beaten into you, one way or another.” 

Nodding, Alexios exhales sharply. He knows that. That’s not the problem. It’s the armour itself - Spartan, made for him, made for an army. Made for a stubborn child in the agoge, long ago. 

“I drove my trainer mad.” Alexios states simply, as a glimmer of a smile tries to force its way through. “I was stubborn. Headstrong. Never wanted to listen, or take the time to care about things I thought were beneath me.” 

Thaletas doesn’t stop his work, but he’s listening. Alexios can tell, watching the way Thaletas slows down when Alexios reveals something more about a past that too few people know. 

“Learnt my lesson on Kephallonia. But…” Alexios scratches at his forearm nervously, shaking his head, “It was something I should have learnt in Sparta. And this–” he gestures to the pile of armour, “Just reminds me of that trainer, and of how much else he would have taught me if I’d never left.” 

Thaletas slowly comes to a stop, resting Alexios’ half-cleaned breastplate against his knee for a moment. He doesn’t look at Alexios at first - his gaze drifts around the camp at the soldiers he sees dotted around, all in various states of sobriety by now. Alexios looks up and follows his gaze, curious, but he finds nothing of interest and winds up shooting Thaletas a quizzical glance instead. 

“I think it might be the other way around, Alexios.” Thaletas tells him quietly, finally meeting his gaze. “How much would you have never learned?”

Alexios hasn’t thought of it like that before. 

“Trust me. You wouldn’t be here if these men didn’t want you here. There’s a reason they’ve been asking for you to join them on the field all this time.” Thaletas sounds certain, and Alexios finds himself wanting to believe him. 

“I can fight, that’s all they need.” Alexios’ doubts always drive him to argue, even with Thaletas all but staring him down. 

“By the gods…” Thaletas lets out a half-laugh, half-sigh, rubbing at his forehead for a moment, “You are stubborn. That hasn’t changed. But what I’m trying to say is that you  _inspire_. You give the men hope– you give  _me_ hope.” 

Alexios manages a smile at that, and an overwhelming sense of relief washes over him. His shoulders relax, and he finally untangles his fingers, rubbing his hands tiredly over his face as if to brush off the show of self-doubt he’d shared. Thaletas makes it unbelievably easy, even in such a place as this where privacy is long out of reach, Thaletas makes it quiet and bearable when Alexios needs that space. 

A useful skill to have if you want to keep a misthios around, it seems.

“Let me help.” Alexios reaches over and picks up his own breastplate from where it’s been resting against Thaletas’ knee, “At the very least, if I do a terrible job, you can cover it up.” he says to Thaletas with a grin, nudging him with his leg as he sits back. 

“There’s a lot of things I’d do for you, but cleaning your armour regularly is not one of those things.” Thaletas chuckles quietly, and gets back to work on his own armour, letting Alexios lean against him slightly while they drift into companionable silence.


	8. bloodlines

Lying under stars with nowhere to be and nobody to please seemed like a faraway dream only a few short months ago, Alexios muses, head resting in Thaletas’ lap while the man plays idly with his hair as he speaks. Alexios would like to pretend that he’s listening, but Thaletas has a voice that blends all too easily into the water flowing nearby. Strange, really. That voice commanded entire armies of hardened Spartan warriors, but for Alexios, it was as easily a piece of nature as the earth beneath them or the trees above them. 

“–I really think you should consider it.” 

Alexios stops fiddling with a piece of grass long enough to tilt his head back, frown etched onto his brow as he regards Thaletas with a question in his eyes. 

“Were you even listening?” Thaletas sighs, hands drifting down to Alexios’ neck, gentle fingers holding Alexios in place so his gaze doesn’t drift again. Thaletas knows him well enough by now, and Alexios can see that in the quirk of his lip that gives him away. He returns a smirk of his own, conceding the point without saying a word.

“Remind me.” Alexios asks, forcing his thoughts back to the man above him. It’s not exactly a difficult task, but Alexios struggles to focus on anything as of late, and Thaletas has been the only one with enough patience to give him a gentle shove back onto the path when he strays too far. 

“I was  _saying_ ,” Thaletas raises a pointed eyebrow, “You should think about Lysander’s offer. Sparta is advancing, day by day, but it’s slow. Exhausting. We endure because we have to, but you… you aren’t tied to a camp or men under your command. You can move freely, you can do more - you would push Athens over the brink enough for Sparta to breathe.” 

Alexios vaguely recalls Lysander’s words a few days prior. He wouldn’t exactly call it an offer - Thaletas might see it that way, but to Alexios, it’s a very thin line between returning home for good, or living his life as a  _misthios_ even further. Echoes of that conversation play over in Alexios’ mind for a few moments more until he has something of an answer for Thaletas at last.

“I  _have_  thought about it, you know. He’s not the only one who’s asked.” Alexios admits, “Stentor brought it up last night. And now you.” 

Thaletas nods slowly, eyes narrowing as he tries to work out where Alexios is going with this. He rubs a thumb gently along Alexios’ jaw, and Alexios finds himself relaxing, tensed jaw easing under hands that are far softer than they should be.

“I’m afraid to take it, because I don’t know where it leaves me. If I’m a  _misthios_ , it’s easy. If I’m nothing, that’s easy too.” Alexios tries to explain, but as clear as his thoughts seem to him, he imagines they’re about as clear as mud to anybody else who tries to look at them. “I am Spartan. Sparta’s my home. I’ll fight and sail under Sparta’s banner, and one day, I’ll gladly die underneath it. But I’ve lost that right to a shield, to protect, to fight as a true Spartan should.” 

Thaletas just listens intently, though he makes no effort to hide his discontented frown. He doesn’t agree, and Alexios knows that already - he’s said as much. Still, that doesn’t change the way Alexios feels, and he manages a weary smile up at Thaletas along with his next words.

“To be torn between one thing and another… I’m not sure I would like that.” 

A moment of silence stretches between them, neither side knowing the real answer to this problem. There might not even be a right answer, only a lesser evil, but both of them know that rings true more often than they’d like. Thaletas lets his hands drift from the rough column of Alexios’ neck, down to his chest, not covered in armour for once, and simply splays a hand flat across the expanse. It’s the light pressure over his heart that suddenly makes Alexios keenly aware of the rhythm pounding underneath. A steady chorus of life beating away, against every odd that’s ever been stacked against him - and by the gods, there’s been plenty. 

“What are you thinking?” Alexios wonders out loud, not quite expecting Thaletas to reply. It’s a pleasant surprise when he does.

“There’s not a single Spartan general out there who would turn you away. Not as a misthios, and not as a Spartan.” Thaletas tells him, and Alexios believes him for once, “Whatever you choose, you’ve given as much blood for Sparta as any soldier I know. And having no shield isn’t a mark of shame when you never had a shield to lose.” 

Alexios closes his eyes for a moment, not quite able to withstand the sincerity he sees in Thaletas’ gentle gaze. It’s not for people like him. Never has been. Even as those words settle in the forefront of his mind, Alexios feels his skin burning under Thaletas’ hands, and his heartbeat quickens. It’s overwhelming in that instant, the drumming drowning out every other sound except the soothing water nearby, and the ripples of Thaletas’ voice. 

“Breathe easy, Alexios. You don’t have to decide tonight.” Thaletas reminds him with a fleeting kiss to his furrowed brow, “Just know that you mean something, both to Sparta and the people in it.” 

“Mhm. Including you?” Alexios tries to recover from the rare lapse in his facade, something that Thaletas has seen plenty of times by now, and Thaletas just chuckles quietly, hovering over Alexios with a knowing smile. 

“Especially me.” 


End file.
